What You Wanted, And What You Got
by lil-miss-chocolate
Summary: Future fic, in about ten years time. A snapshot of two lives intersecting, many years down the road.


**Warning: Non-explicit sex**

**Spoilers: Series 1**

**Disclaimer: Not my sandpit, I just play in it.**

**Word Count: ~2,300**

**Author Notes: I made a manip of Kurt and Puck a while back, and deviant_dev said of the original picture (of Marilyn Monroe and James Dean): "This photo has always made me think they just had amazing, yet forbidden sex and are now both lost in their guilty feelings afterward... The Puck/Kurt version made me think it even more. Someone should fic it." It took me a few weeks to do it, but now here it is!**

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"We shouldn't have done that."

Kurt was lying on his side, gazing at the painting on the wall. The frenetic brushwork was only visible from close up – from a distance, it was a picture of perfect calm. He had hastily pulled his clothes back on and headed for the door when he had awoken, but Puck had caught his arm with a single word: "Stay."

And so Kurt had. A look of worry passed over his face as he lay there, head resting on his outstretched arm. He repeated himself. "We shouldn't have done that."

Puck's gaze remained focused on the window from his position reclining upon the coffee table, the light streaming in. His brow was furrowed on a frown, as though contemplating the right words to say. He remained silent.

Kurt continued, in a reproachful tone, "I'm not that kind of guy. I don't do one night stands. I do romance." He was rebuking himself, not Puck.

Puck reached out a hand to the single red rose that was resting on the coffee table. His fingers were calloused from playing the guitar, but they were nimble and dextrous as he picked it up and spun it idly.

"We kinda did romance," he said, watching the red petals whirling past his eyeline. They were the only spot of colour in the starkly decorated room.

"You saw me looking sad and gave me one from the bunch in your hand. That's not romance, Puck, that's being opportunistic."

The was a long silence before Puck spoke again.

"You regret it?"

After a pause that seemed to last a lifetime, Kurt replied, "No. But I should." He didn't elaborate.

Instead, he reached his left hand out to stroke the bigger man's luxuriant locks. He just couldn't help himself.

Kurt spoke softly, "I never thought you'd grow your hair out. Or dye it, for that matter."

"The fans wanted it. What the fans want, the fans get." Puck didn't sound happy about it. His gaze had returned to the sunlight streaming in, as though he was hoping for it to blind him to all the things about his life that he hated.

Kurt's voice remained low. "You always wanted to get out of Lima."

"Never wanted to sell myself out to do it."

"You didn't," Kurt said, defensively, his fingers running through the dark golden tresses.

"Yeah, I did." Puck sounded weary as leaned back into Kurt's touch. "I ran off to be a rock star, Kurt. I ditched my friends, my family. I swore I never would. Now look at me. The biggest thing since… I dunno. Someone. And not single thing in my life that matters."

"There's me." Kurt's words were so small that Puck could barely make them out.

"You just happened to be going past. I was lonely."

Puck's blunt honesty mirrored Kurt's own reasons for going with him that night, but it still hurt.

"I can stick around," Kurt said, matter-of-factly.

A 'yeah, right' expression appeared on Puck's face as he twisted his head to the left, making eye contact for the first time since they'd awoken.

Kurt smiled dryly as he explained further, his mirthless tone betraying the bitterness he felt: "I've got nowhere better to be. Not now."

Puck turned back to face the window. "You can't. I'm the womanising, ten-girls-a-night-on-a-slow-night, badass rocker. That's what everyone wants me to be. That's what I've got to be."

"You don't _have_ to do what they want you do to, Noah. You're more than that."

"I've let down everyone in my life but them. I won't let down my fans as well." Puck had a fierce look as he clenched his fist determinedly. Not even the use of his given name would bring down his defences.

"You haven't let anyone down." Kurt's fingers resumed their previous path through the silky locks.

"Who are you kidding, Kurt? I ran out on my mom and my sister. I saw a way out of Lima and I took it, but I left them behind to do it. They were the only people in the world who gave a damn about me."

"We gave a damn about you." Kurt's voice stayed quiet.

"Who?"

"The Glee kids. All us misfits and oddities. You let us see, just every now and then, the real you. We cared. And Mr Schue. He's so proud of you. You didn't let _him_ down. At the last reunion…" Kurt trailed off and sighed. "You were missed, Noah."

"Schue never gave a damn about me 'til I was topping the record charts."

"Think that if you like."

"I do." Puck's faced creased in irritation as he pulled away from Kurt's fingertips. "Why did you even come here?"

Kurt withdrew his hand. "To see you perform. I knew you were doing the gig here and I wanted… I wanted to see if you'd changed. Then you saw me in the hotel lobby. You know what happened next."

Puck flashed back to thoughts of roses, and champagne, and a hotel bed that was big enough to easily fit five. The image of Kurt, a single tear running down his face as he sat alone, gazing unseeingly at the pages of a book. Kurt, a smile creeping onto his face as he recognised the man who had sat down beside him, proffering a single rose. Kurt's smile growing wider as Puck had taken his hand and led him to the elevator. Kurt's crooked out finger as he'd sipped from the fluted glass. Kurt's moment of hesitation as Puck had reached for the button of his close-fitting jeans. Kurt's wail of pleasure as Puck's mouth had closed around him. Kurt's gasp as Puck slid into him, slowly, slowly. The ecstasy on Kurt's face as he'd reached his peak. The heavy breaths as Kurt had recovered himself.

And then, as Kurt had slept with blissful countenance, Puck's moment of realisation that he could never have this. He could never have someone waiting for him at the end of every day. He could never have someone to share his bed with every night. The same someone, every single night. He could never have someone to wake up to, every single morning. He could never have that feeling of home, that feeling of safe. That feeling of belonging.

What he had was girl after girl after girl (because a badass rock star couldn't have his image and still want guys.) His high school self would have loved it. Back when he thought that 'Puck' was a better person to be than 'Noah'.

Last night had been a taste of what he could never have. A brief reminder of the camaraderie of that rag tag bunch of kids. They had welcomed him into their lives and asked for nothing in return. He'd trusted them more than his own mother; he had told them he was bi. They were the only ones he had ever told, and they had accepted him. They hadn't judged him. They had cared for him.

Just as Kurt was doing now. He had stayed, simply because Puck asked him to. He had called him Noah. No-one had called him Noah since he'd left home.

And Puck could have none of it. He had to live up to the public's expectations, because they were the only expectations he had left to live up to. He had run out of everyone else.

He had ruined his mother's hopes, tearing their family apart again. His sister was still in Lima. Sure, she could say that her big brother was a star, that he was the most popular performer of the decade, but she couldn't say that he was there for her, that he cared, that he was best big brother in the world.

His daughter was somewhere in Ohio. No doubt learning to sing, what with her adoptive mother being a singing coach, and he was sure she would sing like an angel. And she would have no father there to listen. No father to spoil her, no father to protect her, no father of whose world she could be the centre. All because he had been too scared to fight for her. He had let her down.

And now he had to let Kurt down. However much he wanted the graceful man to stay with him, he couldn't ask him to. Because rock stars didn't settle down with men from high school. Rock stars lived their crazy lives and didn't get tied down. He couldn't fight for a bed shared with same person every night.

Kurt stayed on his side, staring at the back of the golden brown head before him. He shifted his weight slightly and sighed before starting to speak.

"What is it you really want, Noah?" he asked. "It's obviously not this."

"It doesn't matter what I want. I'll never get it."

"Why not?" Kurt propped himself up on his elbow, still speaking to the back of Puck's head.

"I'm not strong enough to fight for it." He couldn't fight against the expectations of the only people he hadn't yet let down.

Kurt took a breath. "Tell me anyway."

There was a seemingly interminable silence. Kurt waited patiently. Finally Puck gave in.

"I don't want to be lonely any more. I want to have… someone."

Kurt could understand that. That's all he'd wanted after his father had died two years earlier. "What's stopping you?" he asked gently.

"No-one I meet ever wants _me_. They want a rock star. They want to go to bed with a rock star. They don't want to wake up with the guy who's underneath."

"I do." Kurt's voice was almost inaudible.

Puck jerked his head dismissively. "You were gonna walk out the door as soon as you woke up."

"I thought you wouldn't want me." Suddenly it was Kurt's insecurities that came to the fore. "I didn't want to hear you tell me that I was just another one of the multitudes of nameless, faceless bodies." Kurt rolled over, facing the sunlit wall.

A pained look spread across Puck's face as he forced out the words, speaking in the direction of the window. "_We_ can never be, Kurt."

"I know." Kurt knew that. He did, he really did. But suddenly all of the reasons why seemed to have flown from his head. Right now, all he wanted was to wake up next to this man every day for the rest of his life. He wanted the reminder of happier days, hopeful days. He wanted to be loved, to be protected. And Puck had so much love to give. He had such dreams. He wanted to be the man of the house, the protector. He wanted to be strong, he wanted to be someone who could be relied upon.

And he felt that the only people who could rely on him were his fans. He thought that the only thing he could do right for sure was what they wanted. And so he let his life be dictated by people he'd never met, by people who didn't care about him, only his music, only what he could do for them.

"Do you want me to stay, Puck? Do _you_ want me to stay?"

Puck lifted his head slightly. Kurt was rolling himself up, placing his feet on the floor. Already Kurt was drifting away from him. He was preparing himself for the 'no' he was sure was coming. Kurt knew that Puck had one thing that he was clinging to, like a drowning man to a life raft – the knowledge that he was doing what was expected of him.

And he was right. Puck couldn't say 'yes'. Because that would have been giving in to what he himself wanted. That would have been ruining his public image, ruining his career. Ruining the one thing he knew he could do right. The one way he could do what expected of him. He knew himself. He knew that even if he did ask Kurt to stay, he would let him down in the end. He always let everybody down.

Puck tried to say 'no', but no sound came out of his mouth. He closed his mouth, swallowed, and tried again.

"No."

It was faint, but Kurt heard it. He knew it was a lie. But he would not stay unless Puck asked him to. His pride was just too much for him. Kurt made his way to the door, pulling on his button-down shirt and smartly fitted jacket as he went, adjusting his attire so that he was presentable to the outside world. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned back to the figure by the window.

"One day, Puck, you'll find the strength to say 'yes'. When you realise that people, real people, _are_ worth fighting for. You don't always have to lose out."

He waited. Puck said nothing. Kurt realised that there was nothing he could say that would let Puck ask him to stay.

"Goodbye then. _Noah_." Puck heard the door open and close behind him. The tears that had been threatening started to roll down his cheeks.

There it was again. The name he had left behind so, so long ago. The name no-one would ever call him again, because he had ditched all those who knew him by it.

All he had was the memory of that night. Of his body entwined with another's, and neither of them wanting to go anywhere until the morning dawned. Of someone asking for nothing more but let them care for him.

Puck knew that that one night was all he would ever get. You can take the loser out of Lima, but a loser he would always be. He had lost Quinn, Beth, his family, his friends. And now he was letting Kurt walk away.

Puck hadn't fought for him. And that made him the biggest loser of all.

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